


from one cage to another

by brokenlittleboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Cage!Fic, Other, dark!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's time in hell breaks him in a very peculiar way. AU in such that Dean rescues Sam from hell. Very dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from one cage to another

The first crack appears a couple of years in.

He’s strong, this one, a lover— but Lucifer is trained in this.

If the ceilings of cathedrals were Michelangelo’s canvas, then Lucifer’s is Sam’s mind, his body, and his soul, artistically twisted and rewound into a new creature with delicate streaks of blood.

And each day, each long dawn of a red sun, Lucifer starts anew, turning Sam into a blank canvas, save for his memories. He tries harder, tries new styles, reaches and combs through Sam’s loves looking for ways to break him. To shatter him, to turn his glass into dust and plant a seed there, to grow a tree from it and burn it down. Remake, regrow, re-kill. This is his element.

But Sam stays solid, stays whole. For so long, even, that Lucifer almost grows weary. Almost gives up.

_Almost._

 

The flaws in his making make their appearance exactly one-hundred and twenty-one days after his fall. Sam’s been counting. He’s waiting for something, he’s not quite sure what. Maybe an escape, maybe this.

He sees Dean. Not only that, but he believes it for a split second. Lucifer’s used Dean on him many times in a myriad of different ways that Sam would rather not think about, and he’s been skilled at not letting it get to him, that is until now.

For just a split second, for only a fraction of a fraction of a moment, Sam thought Dean had come to get him. He towered over Sam, who lay on the floor, sitting on his own old bones. Sam looked up to him, flames casting an arc of light around Dean and making him surreal. For the first time in over a century, hope flared inside Sam, igniting his soul where Lucifer had stomped it out so many times.

Dean’s cheeks were as he remembered, his eyes were the same green, and the spikes of his hair stood up in all the right places. His eyes slid over him again and again, making sure he was seeing the truth. He laughed crazily in relief, blood spilling out and causing him to choke for several beats before he could speak.

“I knew you’d come for me,” Sam whispered, reaching up for Dean with hands of muscle and sinew, but no skin.

“Michael, get away from him!” A voice snaps from behind Sam, and Dean disappears as easily as he had come.

Sam feels his first seed of doubt.

-

Day four-hundred and eighty two. Or eighty-three. Sam doesn’t care.

He keeps seeing him.

Lucifer grows desperate, throwing fake Deans that don’t make sense or don’t have all of their features written on their faces properly. In his haste, he makes errors. He feeds Sam with brothers that don’t feel real. Sam swears he can see through them, see the lack of the soul within. They’re fake.

Unlike the real Dean, who absolutely must be down here somewhere. Sam sees his shadow, sees glimpses between the barriers Lucifer sets around him. Why won’t Dean just come and get him? Why won’t he save him? Is he trapped down here, too?

Sam hears Lucifer arguing with someone, and the argument sounds so familiar that Sam worries Dean is trapped with Lucifer too, is going through the same tortures. Sam can’t bear those thoughts. He swallows them down and lets Lucifer peel his legs open once again.

-

Sam awakes before dawn one morning. Lucifer doesn’t bother putting up a mirage. Sam sits up in his cage, head brushing against the bones that make up most of the small area. He’s whole, for the most part, and has a couple of minutes to spare. His heart rattles in his own cage. Lucifer, like a snake, slumbers nearby. Or waits. Maybe soon he’ll rear his head back and strike Sam, fangs of delirium setting in early. Sam doesn’t risk moving. He sits still, and tries to think of something to keep him collected.

But it’s so difficult now, the simple act of thinking. His head runs in paranoid circles and only thinks of what will inevitably come next, the melting and the burning and the ripping—

Sam breathes deeply, but not too deeply. After all, there is a snake nearby. He tries to calm down. He savors the feeling of a mouth without the trace of iron inside. Shivering in the oxymoronic cold of his prison, he tries to remember his past. Beyond hell, he means.

It’s almost impossible.

What was that one name? His tether? Something feels important, heavy. Life saving. He grinds his teeth in frustration. He had loved someone once.  _Think._

 _Dean._ The face that accompanies the name is murky, faded with neglect in the back of his mind. A photograph touched too many times by dirty hands. But the emotion that accompanies it is not. It’s fresh, raw, and hurts more than any of Lucifer’s dumb tricks. Sam is filled with grief and worry and miss but most of all, confusion. Where is Dean? Why isn’t he here, with Sam? That’s what Sam remembers best, the constant companionship, the love. If Dean matters so much, why hasn’t he come to save Sam?

Sam frowns.

Save him from what? He can’t remember. Lucifer stirs beside him.

-

Sam screams out. One would think by now Lucifer would tire of that sound, but he doesn’t, laughing with joy. The two sounds cover each other but don’t mix, like oil and water. The atmosphere is venomous.

And then, like some savior sent like the heavens, he’s there.

Lucifer recoils. Sam doesn’t bother to think about why.

“De,” he gasps, crawling forward to the figure. He smiles manically. “I love you. I love you. Thank you,” His laugh is less human, ground down to an animalistic bark after all these years of isolation. “I love you.”

But Dean doesn’t bend down and cure Sam and carry him to the sunset. Dean frowns, looking down at Sam with an unreadable but piercing gaze. He simply turns, and walks away. Before long Sam can’t remember what he had to smile about. Pain is all he remembers.

Lucifer thinks he’s finally won. For the first time in his life, he’s glad of Michael’s interventions, as they seem to have some profound affect on his vessel.

What’s left of it, that is.

But just as quickly as his victory came, something changes in the air. Heat, a foreign feeling in this absolute zero. Wind. Electricity. A gate, forgotten, opens. It’s been thousands of years. Lucifer roars in fury, reaches out with clawed hands, but his little pet has already been stolen, out from right under his nose.

Sam Winchester has been saved.

But he doesn’t know that.

The man in front of him, panting and eyes bright with tears and hope, is unrecognizable. The air is too hot, it’s too hot, and too small, and Sam feels as if he’s burning for the first time, even though he has been burning for thousands of years already.

“Sammy?” the man asks, stepping forward.

Sam can’t speak. He can’t remember how. He backs up, feeling more like a caged animal now than ever, and regards the other man fearfully. The other one frowns, and cautiously approaches.

Sam whimpers, shaking his head violently, and finds his words. “Why… what?” he demands, voice rough and low with disuse.

Dean realizes his brother doesn’t know who he is.


End file.
